The Tenth Don’t Dance

The Tenth Hussars a dandy corps,
As crack as crack could be,
In days gone by displayed the sign
Of eccentricity.

Their Jeu d’esprit was “Tenth Don’t Dance,”
Their scorn the Waltz Devine,
And thus their corps distinguished from
The Guards, Dragoons and Line.

“Don’t Dance, Don’t Dance,
Tenth Don’t Dance at all,
In Waltz, Quadrille, Schottische or Reel,
At Town or Country Ball.

The hope forlorn of Maidens
And their designing Mas
Were the Members of the “Don’t Dance
Dandy Tenth Hussars.”

The Tenth one night received a snub
That stopped their little game,
Their Hostess was (oh, fatal night)
A witty Dublin Dame.

When each to take a partner fair
Declined as stiff as starch,
Cried she “My Lads, yon lies the door,
Attention Tenth – Quick March.”

Don’t Dance, Don’t Dance,
Tenth Don’t Dance at all,
And yet, by good St. Patrick, they
Parade at every Ball.

Then said the man that did dance,
“Oh, thank our lucky stars,
We don’t belong to the Don’t Dance
Dandy Tenth Hussars.”

The Dandy Tenth long since have seen
The error of their ways,
That corps elite have quite forgot
Their Don’t Dance Dandy days.

They’re welcomed at – not shown the door –
At Dancing quite au fait,
They’re e’er the first to take the floor,
And e’er the last to stay.

Don’t Dance, Don’t Dance,
Dance they one and all,
They’re ornamental, useful too,
At Town and Country Ball.

Of Belles, the Beau Ideals, quite,
For each Waltz loving Maid,
Knows well the twirl delightful,
That marks the Light Brigade.